


Five Weddings

by emulateharry



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-05-13 09:39:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19248586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emulateharry/pseuds/emulateharry
Summary: Harry and Nick used to date but broke up amicably.  What happens when they attend five weddings over five years.





	Five Weddings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goseaward](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goseaward/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy it! Thanks to @the-well-rested-one for talking me into doing this and thanks to the mods for all their hard work.

**ONE**

The sun was just past the zenith and starting its descent, splashing golden light on the gathering at the edge of the black sand.  Nick stood at the end of the aisle with Pig and Aimee, who, by virtue of her online ordination by the Universal Life Church, was officiating.  When the string quartet began playing Pachelbel, he looked up to see Meshach standing under a bower of tropical flowers at the other end of the long white walkway, Stinky on a leash at his feet.  With a wide smile, Mesh began his slow walk past family and friends to his groom, Stinky padding proudly beside him. Nick looked around trying to fix all the details in his memory. He tried to look serious but could not contain his smile.  He was getting married. On the beach. In Paradise.

Images flitted through his mind of all the years he thought this day would never come for him.  First because it wasn’t legal ( _such bollocks)_ and then because he never thought he would find someone ( _not so much bollocks)._   Well, not someone that he truly fancied who fancied him back. He slid his eyes to his left, pausing on Harry, who was half-turned away from him.  Harry’s expression was serious, almost stoic, as he watched Mesh walk down the beribboned and flowered runner. With a tiny shake of his head, Nick brought his attention back to the man he was about to pledge his life to.  Just as Mesh reached Nick and Aimee, Pig let out one of her grunting barks, an inelegant sound that inspired her name, and the guests laughed.

“Meshach, I promise to love you as much as I do our dogs.  From this day forward, I will lint roll the chairs whenever your parents visit.  I will love you in sickness and in health, as long as you help with the vet visits. I promise to cuddle you as much as I do Pig and Stinky and to pick up treats for you whenever I get some for them.  When you’re having a bad day, I promise to sit close by and nuzzle you until you feel better. I promise to be your biggest fan, to encourage you to pursue your dreams. I promise to love you enthusiastically and fiercely and forever.”

Nick’s voice cracked slightly on ‘forever’ but his smile grew wider, if that were possible, as he turned back to Aimee. She took both their hands.

“Today is all about love.  It has been my honour to officiate your ceremony and now I get to say something you’ve been looking forward to.  I now pronounce you _married._  You may kiss your husband.”

The kiss was sweet and hot and gentle and filled with promise.  As they parted, Nick whispered an _'I love you'_  that only Mesh could hear over the applause of the guests.  Mesh pulled him into a hug and Nick tucked his face into his husband’s neck.

When he opened his eyes he saw Harry standing and clapping but Harry wasn’t smiling like everyone else, in fact, tears were streaming down his cheeks.  Alexa handed Harry a tissue and he dabbed at his eyes. Meshach released Nick and they both bent down to love on the dogs, who had been miraculously well-behaved during the short ceremony. Handing their leashes to Aimee, Nick took Mesh’s hand and they walked back down the aisle together, the sun still smiling on them.

 

The dinner reception was a blur.  The toasting and the roasting and the champagne and lack of food, combined with the energy and anticipation of the day, had pushed Nick just over the line of intoxication.  Mesh was dancing with Aimee and with Nick’s sister Jane when Nick finally got a chance to sit with Harry and Alexa, his suit jacket long since discarded somewhere in the room.  Alexa was teasing him about the vows he had written while Harry watched quietly, a smile on his perfect pink lips. Nick recognised it as his public smile, not a real heartfelt expression of happiness.   Nick knew that face better than its owner sometimes. His gaze slid up to Harry’s eyes and locked there. He almost gasped, those green eyes undid him every time. Even today, his wedding day, those eyes captivated him and drew him in.  And he saw… sadness? What was that about? Harry quickly looked away, and Nick winced at the loss of connection, so he did what had always worked in the past to cheer Harry up.

“Okay, Styles.  What’s with the teary eyes?  I saw you blubbering away there.”

The flush that crept into Harry’s cheeks only made him more attractive, damn him.

“I always cry at weddings,” he murmured defensively.

“Your mum’s, Jay’s, Ben’s—no tears.”

“Not that _you_ saw, Grimmers.”

“Mmhm.  Well. Not today, Henry, not today!”  Nick stood up and grabbed Harry’s hand, pulling him up too.  “Alexa, be a darling and commemorate this auspicious moment of my wedding day...the moment that Henry Stars smiled.”

Harry’s lips began to curl up in the corner of his mouth, whether from the silly tone or the physical contact, Nick wasn’t sure.  He reached up and squeezed Harry’s cheeks between his fingers and cooed at him. “Come on now, give us a grin.”

“Stop, Nick!”  Harry barely managed to contain the giggle that threatened.

“Who’s got a pretty smile?  Who’s got a pretty smile?”

Harry laughed at the silliness of the situation and posed for Alexa.  At her “Got it”, he turned and hugged Nick fiercely.

“Wish you all the happiness, Nicholas.  You deserve it.”

Nick felt his throat constrict and his own eyes prickled.  He looked at Harry’s expression and could not help himself.  He reached up to stroke his cheek. Later, he would put it all down to the high content of alcohol mixed with his blood and bathing his brain, but in that moment, the life that would never, _could_ never, be flashed before his eyes.  He felt a momentary stab of pain, a pain so great that he gasped out loud.

“Are you okay?”

“Cramp.  Big toe. Fuck’s sake that hurts,” he said, bending down to massage the supposedly offending digit through the shoe leather.  He hoped that the distraction had worked on his friends … and himself.

With the perfect timing of his profession, Mesh glided over and drew his husband onto the empty floor for a romantic ‘first dance’.  Nick’s attention was thankfully fully captured, and he didn’t notice when Harry excused himself for the evening. Only later in the weekend did he realise that Harry must have left Hawaii early without saying goodbye, because he didn’t see him again.

  
  


**TWO**

Nick was sat at his assigned table on the left side of the room.  He was attempting to entertain Ellie or Emmy (or whatever her name was, Nick couldn’t be arsed to remember) while Harry was toasting his sister and her newly minted husband.  It wasn’t easy because Elspeth seemed immune to irony and inflection and thus his humour was falling flat. He was about to try a knock-knock joke on the model when Harry returned at last.

Nick averted his gaze as she pulled Harry close and tried to choke him with her tongue, at least that’s what it looked like to Nick, and he swallowed down a retch.  He reached for his glass of water and distracted himself from the show the waifish mannequin was putting on. What the fuck was Harry thinking? He saw the woman’s hand slide to Harry’s crotch and give a squeeze.  Harry giggled. Ugh. Of course. He was thinking with his cock.

God, Nick felt bitchy today.  Understandable, really. It had been less than a year since his marriage had dissolved like a fizzy pink bath bomb in a giant tub of water, and weddings still rubbed the wound painfully.  Mesh seemed to be recovered and happy, he had moved on before the ink on the dissolution was dry. It was taking Nick a lot longer. _It’s because you’re getting old._  It was a constant refrain in his head, these days, a reminder that life was slipping away and everyone around him was settling down.  Well, except for Harry. He was still happy sampling the smorgasbord of women the world had to offer him. And Nick? Nick couldn’t even get a decent date to a friend’s wedding.  So unfair. _Gah_.

“Oi!  Nicholas!  Over here!”  Harry was waving his fingers at Nick after having extricated himself from the octopus.

“What are you on about?”

“D’ja like my speech?  Michal almost choked on his champagne,” he said proudly and with only a slight slur.

“Yeah, Harold, it was really good.”

“I told Mum Gems would like it.  Doesn’t she look great, Grim?” Harry’s face shone with happiness as he watched his mother and sister on the dais.  He turned to Nick, seeking his confirmation.

It took Nick’s breath away.  That face, those eyes, the light of a thousand suns.  The first time Nick had seen that expression was years ago, after the Brits.  Nick was still on the Breakfast Show and him and Harry had stayed out until the wee hours partying.  They went back to his flat so that he could shower and change clothes before work. Harry was a cuddler, especially when he was drunk, and he’d snuggled up to Nick in the car.  It was like freeing himself from a koala to get them both into the flat.  They were giggly and breathless and once the door was closed behind them, Harry had turned to Nick and kissed him. A soft, happy kiss. A taste of the nectar that ancient bards sang about. As first kisses go, it was perfection. Nick had been instantly sobered yet impossibly drunk on Harry.  When they pulled apart, Nick saw Harry’s expression, his innocent look of adoration, and knew that nothing else in life would ever compare to witnessing it.

“Yes.  Beautiful.”

Harry grinned at him before his attention was snatched away from Nick by... Dora? Nora?  Nick watched them together and was puzzled. What did Harry see in her, besides the obvious?  Yes, she was pretty in that cookie-cutter model way, but forget being able to have a conversation.  Her IQ was south of 90 and her repertoire seemed to be limited to 5 or 6 topics on a good day, basically a troll with a pretty face.  Meanwhile, Harry was innately intelligent and constantly challenged himself to keep his mind sharp. He was well-read and well-travelled and could conduct himself respectably whilst conversing on almost any subject.  Nick found himself assessing the odds that this ‘relationship’ would last longer than a month. Not that Nick had any room to throw stones on that account.

Harry leaned over to kiss her (what _was_ her name? Philistia? Phlegm?) but was stopped by her finger on his lips.  She had just applied lipstick and didn’t want him to muss it. Harry smiled and moved to kiss her cheek instead.  Nick nearly goggled at her stupidity and swallowed a snarky comment with a sip of water. When one is given the opportunity to touch that beautiful mouth with one’s own, one never, _ever_ turned that down.  Yet she did. Several more times before the evening was over, in fact.  Idiot.

Nick stayed through the first dance, through the karaoke, through Mr. And Mrs. Mlynowski’s well-choreographed departure.  He had a lovely conversation with Anne, ate more than he should have and then pleaded a headache so that he could escape, escape the presence of so much happiness and hope.  It was far too painful to contemplate, and watching Harry with, er, Consomme’ only added to the hurt and loneliness that he felt.

Nick was waiting for the valet to return with his car when he heard his name.

“Nick!”  Harry was hurrying out to the queue line.

“‘M so glad you could make it, Nick.” Harry reached out to hug him.  Nick hesitated for only a fraction before allowing himself to be drawn in.  He let himself relax into Harry’s arms, let the scent of alcohol and spicy cologne envelope him.  The brush of Harry’s lips against his cheek made him smile, his first genuine smile of the day.

“Call me next week, k?” Harry said, and then he was gone.  

Nick was left stood alone on the kerb and the valet was holding the car door open for him. So Nick went home and watched ‘The Notebook’ and indulged in ice cream and maudlin thoughts of romance and impossibilities.

 

**THREE**

The breeze smelt of brine and freshness as it blew over the castle walls and into the courtyard.  Nick lifted his face to the sun and enjoyed its warmth in the cool air. November 1. Samhain. A legendary good day to begin a marriage, the end of the harvest and the beginning of the quiet time of year.  

It was early yet and he had come out to the garden to take in the beauty of the day and sip his tea.  At the clink of china, he looked up to find Harry walking towards him carrying a cup and saucer of his own.

“Morning Nick.  Beautiful day for a wedding.”

“Harold!  When did you get in?”

“About 2 this morning.  Had to drive up from Manchester.  There was a mix-up in the travel plans and Glenapp Castle is not the easiest place to get to.  On a side note, I’m looking for a new assistant.”

Nick laughed at his obviously false grumpy tone and stood to hug him.  “Well, whatever. I’m glad you’re here.”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”  

There was a certain gruffness to his tone that he tried to cover with a cough.  Nick smiled indulgently and offered him a scone. They caught up for a few minutes, Nick laughing at one of Harry’s jokes and then falling silent.  He closed his eyes and smiled, trying to catalogue all the emotions running through his veins. Happiness, joy, hope, and a bit of nerves if he was honest.  He was grateful to have his best friend there with him.

“Where is Adam?” Harry asked, bringing Nick out of his reverie.

“Not sure.  Sleeping in maybe.  And it’s Calvin—you know that.”

‘Yeah, like my name is Harold or Henry Stars.”

Nick snickered.  “Yes, Henry, my mum asked about you last night.”

Harry shook his head, smile growing.  “Will she ever learn my name?”

“Dunno.  Got her so confused with Adam Richard Wiles and Calvin Harris—she calls him Dickie and that’s that.”

Harry laughed out loud.  “Dickie and Nickie. I’ll have to get you some personalised pillows or some such.”

“Don’t you dare!  By the way, I had the weirdest dream last night.  You and I were running through my old neighborhood in Oldham wearing kilts and trying to find all the sweets.  An old crone was laughing at us and grabbed us both by the ears. She gave us each a coin, filled our sporrans with candy, and sent us out the door, whacking our bums with a broom made out of rosemary.”

“How much did you have to drink last night?” Harry asked with a laugh.

“Not enough for that kind of dream.  Anyway, when I woke up this morning there was a sprig of rosemary and a sixpence under my pillow.”

“That’s really weird.”

“Oh, shut up Henry.”

They finished their tea and, realising the time, headed to their rooms in the castle to get ready for the ceremony which was scheduled for 1 pm.  Harry got dressed in his room then headed upstairs to help Nick with any last minute details. Nick looked up when Harry entered and gave a low whistle.  Harry was wearing a traditional Highland tartan kilt complete with jacket, waistcoat, a sporran and hose. He had a white lace jabot at his throat. His only departure from tradition was a pair of custom Gucci brogues.  Damn but the man was beautiful.

“Are you…” Nick began but Harry interrupted him.

“Of course.”  Harry turned his back to Nick and flicked up the edge of his kilt, mooning his best friend.

Harry greeted Aimee and made conversation while Nick recovered himself.  Unlike his first wedding, Aimee was not officiating this one. Instead she was Nick’s best man, a role Harry would have been honoured to fill but he hadn’t been asked.

“So what are your duties Aimee?  Hold the rings? Calm down the groom?  Or at least one of them?”

“Yeah, Harry.  Oh, I get to help with the hand-fasting too,” she answered.

“The what?”   

“It’s a Scottish tradition.  Cal always wanted to include it when he got married,” Nick explained.

“I still have no idea what you are talking about,” Harry said.

“Here, it’s like this Harry.  Do you have a cord or a ribbon?”

Harry reached into his sporran and removed a banana, his mobile, and a Gucci tartan scarf.

“The scarf, give it to me.  Okay. So you and Nick hold hands.  No, both of them. Yeah, like that. Then the ribbon, or in this case the scarf, is wound around your hands and then tied loosely.  A blessing is offered and voila’. You’ve tied the knot.”

She was grinning at them.  Nick rolled his eyes and shook the scarf loose.  

“It’s all bollocks if you ask me.  But my fiancé wanted it, and I want to make him happy.”

“Well then, Nicholas, that is what you should do.”

 

***

Tuesday morning, headlines in The Sun and Daily Mail screamed about the secret wedding of legendary DJ Calvin Harris, nee’ Adam Richard Wiles, and television and radio presenter Nick Grimshaw.  The happy couple was said to be honeymooning at an undisclosed location. The paps had been out of luck and only the official photos released by the happy couple were used. Harry meanwhile had been caught at Heathrow and dozens of shots were circulating the internet.  Fans were disappointed that he was not smiling in any of them.

 

 

**FOUR**

 

“And Chris told me that Gwyneth sent them a gift,” Nick muttered conspiratorially to Harry before taking another drink of champagne.

“No! What was it?  Poisoned fruit or summat?”

“It was a set of holistic linen sheets, handmade while the crafter thinks happy thoughts about the recipient.  Oh! And it came with an aphrodisiac candle and some aromatherapy good mojo spray.”

“Did Alexa toss them into the rubbish bin?”

“No, she said she’d use them in the guest room.  One of them at least.”

Their laughter was interrupted by the return of Harry’s date, Clarissa.  She plopped onto the seat next to him and affected a pout. Nick used every ounce of his self-control not to roll his eyes.  Harry had dated some vacuous women in the past but this one was the worst. He could not understand what Harry saw in her. Avaricious, spoiled, and she wasn’t even pretty. Nick worried about Harry sometimes.  Okay often, he worried about him often. As Harry got closer to his 30th birthday, and he’d just turned 29 in February, he seemed to be more and more restless and determined to find the perfect mate.  It was like his biological clock was ticking or something.

Nick hadn’t been to his friend’s last birthday party.  He had been in the throes of his second disintegrating marriage.  It was all his fault, really. At least that’s what Cal had said just before he slammed the front door and then whooshed out of the garage never to be spoken to again.  Why couldn’t he remain friends with his exes? Other people seemed to have no trouble. The only one he had managed to keep was Harry, and they had only dated briefly a decade ago.

Had it been that long?  

They had both been so young.  Harry had still been in One Direction and the Nazi-like management had nearly ruptured an artery when they found out he and Nick were an ‘item’.  Harry had quietly listened to their ranting and threats and then turned and walked out of the meeting. He had gone straight to Nick’s and holed up there for almost a week, refusing to speak to anyone except Nick until his mother called him, worried.

Harry had agreed to attend a meeting whereupon the management dicks hammered at him again about ruining the brand until he threatened to walk away from it all.  They had quieted down when they realized that this charming, soft-spoken kid was absolutely prepared to make good on his warning. Harry ended up giving _them_ an ultimatum before heading back to Nick’s.  Nick, who had been scared shitless for his boyfriend, was truly terrified when Harry recounted the relevant points of the meeting he’d just attended.  All he could see was the glorious career Harry was prepared to throw away for him… and he couldn’t let him make that sacrifice. He told himself that Harry didn’t realise what he was about to give up, that he worried that Harry would regret it and blame him.  

Their friendship had survived the break-up, barely.  Harry felt that his grand gesture hadn’t been appreciated for what it was: a declaration of love for Nick.  Nick felt that Harry was too young to realise what he was doing. They repaired the relationship one night when Harry was off tour with 1D and showed up at Nick’s with an armful of romantic comedies and a couple of bottles of tequila.  They drank and watched movies and hashed out the hurts until the wee hours of the morning. Then they curled up in Nick’s bed and cuddled until they fell asleep.

The tens of millions of One Direction fans had no idea how close they had come to losing their beloved boys two and a half years before the ‘hiatus.’

When Nick had first heard Made in the A.M. he had been shocked. He hid it well at the station but he had taken the CD home and listened to one song over and over again.  Though they had never discussed it, Nick knew that “If I Could Fly” had been written about him. He had spent that weekend drinking and crying over opportunities lost.

His rumination was ended abruptly by Clarissa’s long fingers snapping at him.  “Wake up Sleepyhead! Do you want another drink or not? I’m going to the bar.”

“I’m good.  Thanks,” he said.

Harry had been summoned by yet another friend of the happy couple to pose for selfies with them.  Nick was watching him so intently that he didn’t hear Alexa swish up to the table. He pulled his features into a mask, but it was too late.  She had seen.

“Why don’t you talk to him Nick?  I mean, really talk to him. Tell him the truth.”

“Tell him what?  That a forty year old man with two failed marriages fancies him?”

“Thirty-eight.”

“Oh bollocks.  Close enough.”

“You are selling yourself short.  And you’re not giving him enough credit. You will never be happy if you keep trying to find a substitute for the real thing.”

"What is this?  Relationship advice from the woman who has been married for exactly…” he looked at his watch, “90 minutes?”

“Fine.  Ignore my advice.  But I know I’m right.  Oh god, gotta run. Carlotta is steaming her way over here.”

“Clarissa.”

“Oh whatever, Grimshaw.   She wants me to make her the spokes-model for my brand. I don’t know what Harry sees in her,” she said softly over her shoulder as she hurried away to a group of friends and family to hide from Clarissa.

“No one does,” Nick answered but she didn’t hear.

 

 

**FIVE**

 

“Calm down, Nicholas!  You said it yourself ‘Third time’s the charm’.”

Harry smiled at the groom fumbling with his bowtie. Nick stood in front of the full length mirror, shirt untucked and trousers unbuttoned, grappling with the piece of silk.  Pausing again, he met Harry’s eyes in the mirror as he found another thing to panic about.

“Sam was subdued at the dinner last night. He wouldn’t tell me what was wrong. What if he’s got cold feet? Everyone’s out there—Harry I don’t think I can take the humiliation of another failed marriage. I’m a punchline now—even to myself.”

“Nick, it’s okay to have jitters before your wedding. Sam’s probably just excited and nervous just like you.”

“I need another glass of wine,” Nick said and moved to the table across the room.

“You might want to take it eas-” Harry was interrupted by Nick’s yelp of pain as he stubbed his toe on a chair leg.

“Shit, that hurt!” he yelped, reaching down to rub the offended appendage.   “If I broke it, the shoes will never fit. Wait! My shoes! Where are my shoes?”

“They’re right here,” Harry replied with a smirk.  Opening the box containing the shiny black oxfords he offered “Come here and tie your tie.  I’ll tie your shoes.”

Nick walked back to the mirror and Harry knelt down, slipping the patent leather on the proffered left foot and tying securely.  Maneuvering the right shoe on Harry grazed the stubbed toe and Nick howled out a protest.

“Hold still, it’s almost in there.   Come on now, push a little.”

The door burst open and Nick’s fiancé barged in.  He took in the sight before him, his brain jumping to a conclusion.

“Sam! It’s bad luck to see each other before the ceremony,” Nick’s voice sounded strained.

“H-how could you? On our wedding day?” Sam’s face was suffusing with red.

“What? What are you on about?”

“You know, you’ve called me his name at least a dozen times.” Sam’s eyes were looking dangerously moist.

“What? Who?”

Harry rose slowly and moved to stand behind Nick’s right shoulder.

“Last night even.  You called me ‘Harry’.”

Nick stood frozen as the color drained from his face.

“I came in to reassure myself that we were going to be okay and find him on his knees and your trousers undone!”

“Sam!  I was tying his--” Harry began but Sam cut him off.

“You shut up! It’s always you! He moans your name in his sleep.  He even called me ‘Harry’ when I was sucking him off. You’ve ruined my life!”

Sam made a move towards Harry but Nick stepped between them.

“Harry’s done nothing wrong.  He’s just--”

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Ramon told me you were cheating with him but I didn’t believe him.  Now I see it with my own eyes. It’s over! How could you ever say ‘I do’ to me when you never stopped saying I did to him?”

“Sam--” Nick reached for him.

“No! I’m going back to Ramon!”

“But our guests!”

“You mean _your_ guests Nick,” he said then stifled a sob with his fist as he stumbled from the room.

Nick stood stiffly staring at the door while Sam’s wails echoed down the hall.  It was a while before he felt Harry’s hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Nick.  I didn’t mean to--”

“No. It’s alright.  I knew it wasn’t going to work out.  I think that’s why I was so nervous. I’m not in love with him.”

He hung his head as Harry squeezed his shoulder.  Nick reached up to pat his hand after a moment and took a deep breath.

“I guess I’d better go tell my guests that the wedding is off. At least they’ll have the reception to look forward to.”

“Wait, Nick.  Don’t tell them.”

“What? I can’t leave everyone just sitting there when they’ve surely heard him carrying on.  I’ll just tell them I’m a three time loser and we’ll move on to the dinner and the party.”

Nick headed for the door but Harry grabbed his arm.

“Was it true? What he said?  About me?”

“C’mon Harold, let go. I’ve got to—“

“Was it true, Nick?”

Nick steeled himself to look into Harry’s eyes, those green eyes that he loved so much.

“Yes,” he managed at last.

Harry searched his face, questioning then made a small nod.

“Good. Then marry me.”

“What?!”

“You heard me. Marry me instead. Today.  Right now.”

“Have you gone mad?”

“Do you know why I’ve never got married?  Because I didn’t love any of them. Not one.  And I tried.”

Nick just stared at him.

“Do you know why I’ve never dated another man?”

Harry paused for a reply but Nick was dumbstruck.

“Because you’re the only man for me.  Nicholas Peter Andrew Grimshaw, I love you. I have loved you my whole life.  Will you marry me?”

Tears filled his eyes and his voice cracked when he answered.  “Yes, Harold, I will.”

“You know my name isn’t Harold, right?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

And he did.

  
  
At the first strains of the music the small crowd turned to see Harry and Nick standing at the back of the room together.  As Shania sang ‘Still the One’ they walked hand in hand down the aisle, both men beaming. They stopped to hug Anne and Gemma, both of whom were crying. Just before he released her, Anne whispered to Nick “It’s about time.”  That was when his tears started.

Next stop was Eileen and Jane and Andy who hugged them both fiercely.  Eileen reached up to whisper to Harry “He’s always loved you Henry. As have we all.”  

“Mum, his name’s---”

“Harry. Yes dear, I know.  But he’ll always be Henry Stars to me.”

Harry bent down to kiss her on the cheek.

They arrived at the end of the aisle and stood looking at each other as the song faded away.  The minister gave a speech and had them repeat traditional wedding vows. He pronounced them married, and then Nick turned to Harry.  He looked into those eyes, so green he could get lost in their depths. Harry took Nick’s face gently in his hands and softly brushed his cheeks with his thumbs.

“I love you.  I am so proud to have married you at last.”  

And then he kissed him.  And then kissed him again. And then again.  Nick was giddy when they finally pulled apart to applause from their guests. Third time was indeed the charm.


End file.
